


There's a Port On a Western Bay

by Iocane



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Happy Ending, Kinda?, M/M, Minor amputation mentioned, Pirate AU, RK900 is Nines, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 13:16:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18142667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iocane/pseuds/Iocane
Summary: Nines works laying whiskey down, waiting for his sailor to come home.Loosely based on the song Brandy, but with a happier ending because they deserve it.





	There's a Port On a Western Bay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dana/gifts).



> I love the song Brandy and listening last night I imagined Nines in his usual turtleneck wearing a silver chain with a locket.
> 
> Mix in some rough sailor!Gavin, and voila!

Nines filled his tray with shot glasses, slid it off the counter and hefted it easily up to his shoulder. Doling them out at tables three or four at a time, he chatted easily with the regulars. Not a one smacked his ass. As he left a table with a mix of regulars and newcomers, he heard one man getting admonished for trying, even over the din of the bar. 

Good move on the part of the regulars - Nines had broken more than one hand that took liberties. One particularly aggressive customer couldn't bend his pinkie correctly anymore.

"You're a good guy, Ninesth," Ben said, head flopping on Nines' shoulder as he helped the sloshed sailor out of the bar at closing time. "Gonna make a nice husband someday."

"Thanks, Ben," he smiled faintly. "But you're already married!" It was a careworn exchange that he had with a dozen regulars a month. When they were drunk enough they forgot most things but remembered that Nines was kind to them. That he listened while they talked about home. 

Finally, the place was empty, cleaned, and closed. Shrugging on his coat, Nines inhaled the scent wafting off the collar, though the cologne it once held was long gone. Soon, though, it might be refreshed. Now that he was off work, and the town was all but silent, Nines reached under his collar and withdrew a braided silver chain, letting the locket it carried hang to his chest. 

The city was the deep dark of predawn, and if he hurried, Nines could catch the sunset over the ocean. If he was very lucky, he'd catch more than the sunset. There was a slim possibility the ship he looked for had come in during the night, but he'd know that. He kept tabs on all the ships coming and going and hadn't heard of the Jericho returning today.

Luck was on his side and Nines reached his favorite perch on the roof of waterfront warehouse only minutes before sunrise truly began. Seeing this, the shift from dark blue to a rainbow of colors, made his late hours worth it. Nines fingered his locket and tried not to ache too much. He didn't need to see it to trace the letters etched in fine Spanish silver. Opening it would be an exercise in pain if the Jericho didn't show up. Sometimes he needed that pain, to see the face, remind him of why he waited. Right now he just needed to see the real thing.

As he watched the morning sky, he began to make out a bump on the horizon. It might not be the Jericho, but it just might. It was about the right size and shape. The only way to be sure would be to watch it dock.

By the time Nines had made his way back down to the ground, he could see it was indeed the Jericho. He wanted to run up the pier, to watch the sailors disembark as the longshoreman began to work unloading her cargo.

Instead, he went home, but with a lightness to his step that had been missing for weeks. He wasn't going to idly wait, and on his way, Nines stopped by one of the market stalls just opening up. He knew the old vendor and they chatted - Brad easily guessing why Nines was so giddy buying freshly churned butter so early in the morning.

As Nines climbed the stairs to his small apartment, he knew there was a chance - a better one than he might want to think - that this was all in vain. That instead of a key turning, he'd hear a heavy knock, a sea-weathered voice, and somber words. 

Nines was just getting the bread out of the oven when he heard his door open. His hands were shaking when he straightened and set the loaf pan aside.

+++++

Gavin always told himself that this time he was done, that this time he would stay. He meant it, too, each and every time. But then a few days or weeks and the siren called again.

As he disembarked from the Jericho, Gavin began to consider siren-proof earplugs. For years, the sea had been what called him. That wanderlust, the need to see new places, breathe new air and speak new tongues had captivated him, even more than Nines. This last voyage, however, had been hard. Too hard. They'd been part of a small convoy, and only the Jericho had made it the entire way. He was getting older, and he lost more of himself every time he went to sea. Soon, there wouldn't be anything left to carry his soul back where it belonged.

He fished the key out from around his neck and slid it into the lock. The bar was long closed, so Nines should be home. Maybe asleep. That would be nice, just slide his weary body into bed and sleep beside his love.

Instead what he saw made his whole body grow tight. Nines was bent over, getting a loaf of bread out of the oven. 

"Don't turn around," he said roughly once the loaf pan was on the counter. "I had a bad go of it this time, darling." He looked down at what was left of his right hand. Two fingers sheared off by an improperly secured rope. He was lucky it hadn't been the whole hand. It had happened a few weeks into his six months away, it was mostly healed but still ugly and alarming if you weren't expecting it.

A fight with pirates in the last week had given him another reason not to let Nines turn around just yet. He stepped closer, his nose throbbing under the bandage. Nines still hadn't turned, though he could see the other man trembling.

"You came back," Nines said, "That's enough for me."

Gavin's left arm wrapped around Nines' waist as he moved behind him. Other men might be bothered by a lover so much taller than him, but Gavin liked it. He loved Nines and everything about him. "My right hand and my face might disagree with you," he said quietly against Nines' back.

Gavin let his head rest there, the side of his face pressed against Nines' shoulder and neck. He felt when Nines began to turn and was soon wrapped up in those gorgeous, warm arms. A tight hug, until he almost couldn't breathe, and then a hungry kiss, slower than usual, mindful of the bandage, but no less passionate for it.

How did Nines do it? Whatever wounds - body or soul - Gavin brought home, Nines made them hurt less. He'd lay money that he healed faster in Nines' arms, too.

Nines, as he always did, had to inspect his sailor thoroughly, make sure there were no other injuries he'd left out, and kissing everything better. No cut was too shallow, no bruise too small to escape the healing power of those lips.

Gavin was very glad to be assured that missing a few fingers did not in any way impede his ability to make Nines's eyes cross when Gavin fucked him just right.

Before their sweat had even dried, Nines had fetched the freshly baked loaf and they ate it whole, breaking it into pieces, slathering it with fresh butter.

"I haven't had fresh butter since I was here last time," Gavin admitted. Nines was leaning against the headboard, and Gavin against Nines' chest, their legs tangled under the sheets. He popped the last of a still warm chunk of bread in his mouth and sighed.

"You don't get fresh butter on the ship anymore?"

"Not under the new captain. We get lard if we're lucky. If there's butter to be had, it's the captain that has it, or it's cargo."

His long arms wrapped around Gavin, Nines was buttering another roughly cut slab of bread and Gavin was content to just open his mouth and accept a bite.

"Tell me what happened to your hand," Nines asked, after swallowing his own bite.

"Rope got twisted, caught my hand wrong and-" he snapped with his left hand. "Doc managed to cauterize it so I wasn't down for long. Then after it was done scabbing, he had to make a few cuts because the skin was so tight."

"He did a good job," Nines drew the hand to his lips, kissing the edge of the scar. "I missed you."

Gavin set the bread pan and butter aside and drew Nines' arms tight around him. "I missed you, too. I always do."

"When does the Jericho sail again?" 'How long are you mine' was the question Nines never asked him, and normally Gavin was grateful.

"I don't know. I don't plan to be on it when she does."

"Gav-" Nines could hear the tightness in the cut off word.

"I'm tired of it, darling," Gavin admitted. "Tired of leaving you, of seeing people die, washed over the decks or pirates or a thousand other things." It was easier this way - they couldn't see each other's faces, Gavin was addressing the tiny room Nines called home. Gavin had never lied - he'd told Nines years ago that the sea would always come first. He'd never expected to be wrong.

"You can stay here as long as you need," Nines finally said.

Of course, Nines was as practical in his way as Gavin was. Too many years of being left in the night with a kiss and a trinket on the nightstand when his mistress called him back. This time, Gavin had something else to offer. He turned, pressing a kiss to Nines' lips, and let his fingers brush over the locket he always -  _ always  _ \- wore. "I have something for you," he flashed his winning smile - the one that first convinced a wary barman to get a room with him some ten years earlier.

"You always do," Nines returned the smile with his own, smaller and softer, but all the more treasured for its rarity.

Gavin climbed out of bed, grabbing his long-discarded pack and carrying it back to the bed. Pawing through it, he found what he was after - A bible, the sort with an old zipper enclosure to keep the pages safe. A gift from Nines years ago, the same one Nines' parents had given him when he left home. Neither believed in god, or the words of the bible so it had been hollowed out and made into a stash box. Since it was from the most important person in his life, it made sense to Gavin to use it to store the most important things in his life.

As Nines watched, Gavin undid the zipper, though he tipped it, smiling at his darling as he opened it, keeping the contents hidden. Plucking what he wanted, he curled it into his fist and set the book aside - open. Inside was a veritable fortune in easily transportable gold.

"We've never done anything the right way, you and I." Gavin was sitting cross-legged on the bed, right hand trailing up Nines' leg under the blanket. "Still, I feel like I should say something. I know you love the mountains, you always talked about going back someday, getting a cabin." He opened his hand, showing Nines the ring.

It was on the plain side, but they were ultimately plain people. They didn't need fancy things, just honesty. The ring was plain but very clearly an engagement ring.

Nines shifted to his knees and crawled over to Gavin, kissing him. "We don't do things the right way," he agreed. "But if you don't actually  _ ask  _ me, I'm not saying yes." He was smiling when he said it though.

Gavin huffed even as he took Nines' hand when he shifted to his knees. "You make everything so difficult!" He lifted the hand to his lips, "Will you marry me?" He'd barely finished the question when he slid the ring onto Nines' finger.

"A thousand times yes," Nines purred. Once the ring was in place he laid back and pulled Gavin with him, celebrating their new agreement.

Two years later found them in a small house in the mountains, with a small baby. She'd been adopted from a family after the mother died and the family wanted to move but didn't want to travel with an infant.

Gavin felt the pull of the sea a few times, but whenever it did, he immersed himself in the things he loved even more until it went away.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I'm aware that in a western city, the sun would rise over the landside. I also don't care, I liked the image so I kept it.
> 
> It's meant to have a vaguely historical feel, but I liked the zipper bible so I added it anyway!
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


End file.
